So dark…subdued shaft of light shows the way…footsteps ring out, metallic…something on the wall…a plaque…
'The Grim Reaper's List
Albert Lords
Lydia Findly
Edward Briggs
Roberta Morgan
Trevor F White'
Roberta Morgan. His neighbor. Why was she on the Reaper's list?
"Help!…Help!…"
A voice. A woman. Was it Roberta? He could hear her but couldn't see her.
"Help me please somebody…"
It took him a minute or so to realize that he had been dreaming; writhing in bed sheets, breathing slightly ragged. Another minute passed before his head was sufficiently clear to take in the cries for help as not being part of the dream. Someone was calling out, and it wasn't Roberta.
"Hello? Somebody? Anybody? It's my boyfriend…"
Untangling himself from the sheet, he dopily wrapped his dressing gown around him and put on his slippers. Still half asleep he shuffled down the hall, following the heart wrenching sobs.
They were visible before a hundred meters had passed, shadowed against the light from the room behind them. The girl caught his gaze. Shock whitened her vaguely familiar face. It was the waitress from the diner. Cradled in her arms was the young porter, Al. Fine purple veins were visible on his skin, pale and clammy. Mouth hung open, mumbling to himself and suffering intermittent spasms.
"What happened?" asked Harry.
"I don't know. Everything was fine and then he said he felt shitty. We were just about to go home and then he…" the young woman trailed off, understandably distressed.
"I'll try and find a doctor for you." said Harry. He started retracing his steps, unsure of how to carry out his promise. He had no idea how to get around the building. There should be a night nurse on duty but the location of the nurses' station was also a mystery. The young porter's condition needed immediate attention. No time to wander around aimlessly.
As he was about to pass his room something occurred to him. The small round disc on his bed would call a nurse. Al had told him earlier to only use it if the problem was urgent. He remembered the conversation quite clearly…it was the longest sentence the boy had uttered all day. He hurried over and pressed it. And again. Then pressed it a couple more times. He didn't know the protocol and this was urgent.
After thirty four seconds passed with no response he was about to press again when he heard a pair of shoes at the far end of the hall. He looked out. There was Rachel pulling on a cardigan over her uniform, which needed straightening.
"Mr. Mason." she hissed ahead, "This had better be a genuine emergency. I thought you were going to wear out the buzzer.
What's wrong? You look fine…"
"It's not me." said Harry, making his way back.
"Then why? And think carefully about your answer or you'll be sorry. You and the guy that was supposed to be covering the start of my shift." grumbled the nurse hurrying along behind.
"One of your porters collapsed. His girlfriend couldn't find a member of staff. I heard her call for help…I didn't know what else to do."
Her face lightened. She sighed sympathetically.
"You did the right thing."
Harry smiled to himself; he'd been lurching from one disaster to another recently. It was nice to get something right for a change.